Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

“Desmond,” Ranata said.

“Stop it right now.”

“She has the receipts,” Desmond said, keeping his voice low.

“It’s over, Ran.”

Helen put her coffee mug down on the counter.

The ceramic clinked loudly against the granite.

“What do you mean, it’s over?” Helen asked.

Desmond kept his eyes on the stack of mail.